


Luke Skywalker Is Altogether Too Likable

by Mokulule



Series: Likability Conundrum [1]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bounty Hunter, Electrocution, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, He is not paid enough for this nonsense, Implied/Referenced Torture, Luke is a cinnamon roll, Our hero doesn't get away, POV Outsider, Piett POV, Poor Piett, implied slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-04-29 17:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14477958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokulule/pseuds/Mokulule
Summary: A bounty hunter claims to have caught the empire's most wanted rebel, unfortunately for Admiral Piett, Lord Vader is not in attendence, so he will have to take the call.Alternatively; the Piett POV story I have amused myself with for several months and that I hope others will also enjoy.Update: now a chaptered story, just shoot me now





	1. Luke Skywalker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slx99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slx99/gifts).



> Gifting this to Slx99 for writing one of my favorite Piett POV oneshots called the Holiday.

The Executor orbited the small planet of Flotilla almost serenely, waiting for her commander to finish his business on the surface. The Lady, as her crew would fondly call her, was in a class of her own for sheer size and firepower, the first in a new line of super star destroyers. Firmus Piett had the honor of being her Admiral, second in rank only to Lord Vader and it was his job to keep the ship running smoothly. 

Some of his lieutenants might think he micromanaged a bit too much, but he hadn’t kept his neck intact for so long by being lax with his job. And on calm days like these his job was to make sure everyone else did their jobs. 

He walked calmly across the walkways of the bridge, one eye on a datapad that continuously received new reports from the Lady’s massive crew; repair crew 017 had just cleared the previously defect Tie-anchor in hangar 5; trooper training statictics updated just as another squadron finished their sim training, overall acceptable results. He absently flagged a few underperforming troopers, should that continue, he would have to message squad leaders. He kept another eye on the analysts and communications officers as he passed them making sure they were busy with their respective jobs. Regularly he would glance up at the screens monitoring the surrounding space and the viewscreen itself. 

“Admiral, sir.”

Piett looked up and located the communication officer who’d spoken from across the room and stood at attention at his console; Blond, thin, upturned nose… Ah yes, Ruda. He walked towards him locking the datapad and holstering it by his belt as he went. He noted out the corner of his eyes with satisfaction, that only a few people had stopped their work, but even those quickly returned their attention forward.

“At rest, Lieutenant Ruda.” Piett said as he stepped into the trench where all the consoles and their operators sat. A brief sense of nostalgia passed through as he entered the trench, he’d been an analyst for several years, sometimes he wished back to the simpler life; where Lord Vader was more of a distant menace, a real life legend, but not really a threat to his life -there had been hundreds of officers between him and Vader’s displeasure. He refocused on Ruda. “What have you got for me?”

“Bounty Hunter sir.” He brought up a circulating headshot of a scarred Trandoshan. “Bossc Blackscale. He wants to speak with Lord Vader, or whoever’s in charge, not anyone else. Says he has an important bounty to cash in.”

Piett’s lips turned down in disgust. Ruda conveyed the same sentinemt with a grimace.

“Re-route him to the private chamber and lock on to his position. If he doesn’t have something really spectacular, we’re ridding the galaxy of this taint.”

Oo o oO

Piett stared numbly at the terminal, where he’d just allowed a Bounty Hounter to land on his Lady. His hands shook so he clenched them into fists. Luke Skywalker… If what the Bounty Hunter said was true, he had Luke Skywalker. Piett knew with frightening certainty that he had to do this personally. If this went wrong it was his head either way. Bespin stood as a stark reminder at the back of his mind, that he’d failed Lord Vader in this matter before. 

Briskly he drew himself together and walked towards Hangar 7. He pulled out his comm.

“I want 2 squadrons in Hangar 7, stat.”

Oo o oO

 

The troopers stood at attention in the hangar when Piett arrived. The commander marked with a black shoulder pauldron and standing infront of his troopers, acknowledged Piett with a curt; “Admiral, Sir.” 

“Commander,” Piett nodded and joined his side. He wordlessly handed over his datapad for the commander’s perusal. It contained the rep sheet of Bossc Blackscale; Piett was not impressed at his methods, he was an all around unpleasant lizard. 

“Sir, your orders?” the commander asked for clarification as he handed back the datapad.

Piett stared thoughtfully as the repurposed freighter slowly entered the hangar, and sat down 15 meter ahead of the welcome party.

“He believes he has something we want, if he does not, he will regret it severely.”

The commander nodded curtly. Piett imagined he was smiling behind the helmet.

The boarding ramp came down with a hiss and a lispy voice yelled down at them from the protection of the ship - at least he had some sense.

“You goth my money?”

“Once we’ve seen you can uphold your end.” Piett spoke calmly and firmly, letting the acustics of the hangar carry his words. 

“One Persson, unarmed.”

Piett handed his sidearm to the commander at his side. The white helmet tilted questioningly, implicitly asking; you sure this is wise?

Piett shook his head in reply, quirking lips upward in humor, before walking forward. 

He met the Trandoshan at the top of the ramp. He smiled meanly, revealing two long rows of razor sharp teeth, clearly meant to intimidate.

“Shall we?” Piett asked keeping his face void of expression. The trandoshan growled at the non-reaction, but turned around to lead the way.

The ship was a piece of trash. It looked like it was cobbled together from at least seven different ships and every surface was dirty, corners hid unmentionable things, and the smell was like a torturechamber which hadn’t seen a cleaning in years; a mixture of sweat, piss, shit, and blood. The one positive was the relatively high ceiling. 

They entered what had to be the main storage area through double sliding doors.  
Piett’s eyes were immediately drawn to the prone figure in the center of the large room. The bounty hunter flicked a switch and harsh overhead lights turned on one by one. There was a scared childlike whine and something blue disappeared behind a box to the left - that had certainly not been Skywalker. Piett blinked and refocused in the harsh light. 

The prone figure in the center of the room was wearing the remains of one of those horrid orange flightsuits the rebels favored, only the pants remained though to be recognizable as such - the rest were torn to pieces some of it lying around him. Piett walked closer slowly, noting for the first time that the figure seemed to be continously trembling. 

He was curled into a fetal position hands and feet chained to the floor. Piett crouched down to get a closer look. With how dirty the hair was, it was impossible to tell the color. Piett sighed, not really wanting to touch anything onboard this ship. He reached out and tilted the head backwards so that he could see the face. 

He’d half expected it not to be Skywalker, so when Skywalker’s blue eyes looked up to meet him, just as blue as in the holo, otherworldly somehow, his breath hitched and he almost fell backwards. Thank the stars he’d didn’t fall on his behind! 

Skywalker closed his eyes, releasing Piett from their eyelock; it had been like he’d looked straight into his very being, it was almost like when you had Lord Vader’s full attention, except not quite as menacing. This had just been unnerving. He took a deep breath and looked Skywalker over. He was more or less one big bruise and had several still-bleeding cuts, likely from a vibroknife judging by the precision. A couple of the older cuts on his torso were inflamed and oozing. 

He noted a metal collar tight around his neck. Unable to see the immediate purpose for it, Piett turned towards the Bounty Hunter.

“What is the purpose of this?”

The Trandoshan chuckled, “Low electric current. Keeps him from doing any of his little tricks.” He grinned, fishing a remote from the front pocket to the left. Almost as if sensing something about to happen, Skywalker turned around to look at the trandoshan. Skywalker sighed. The trandoshan hit the button, and what before had been a fine tremble that could have been mistaken for cold shivering, turned into full on convulsions; Skywalker screamed. 

Piett felt slightly ill. 

There was a choked cry from the left side of the room. Piett only had eyes for Skywalker. He knew torture was a necessary evil in the context of interrogation, but this was pointless. It was just cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

The trandoshan reset the device and Skywalker resumed the fine tremble. Skywalker looked up to the ceiling, eyes wide and unfocused. 

“He heard that,” he rasped ominously through dry lips, “he’s coming…” 

Piett wanted to ask who, but a high pitched scream drew his attention to the trandoshan and the now struggling little blue twilek girl - she couldn’t be more than seven standard. Piett’s blood ran cold.

“And what is that,” he demanded standing up.

“Thiss little thing,” he grinned, mightily proud of himself, tossing the girl harshly to the ground. “Thiss little thing and itss family got me Skywalker. You see they are all alike all thesse hero typess, the right leverage and they will ssurrender themselvess.”

“And why do you still have the girl then?”

“Inssurance of the hero’s continued compliance of course.” He chuckled gruesomely. “And now that you’re going to take him off my hands, this one,” He nudged the cowering child with his foot, “will fetch a nice price. Still young enough for training.”

Piett kept his face carefully blank and his voice even; “I see. Well then lets handle your payment, shall we? After you,” he courteously indicated the door, “I’m afraid I would get lost if I had to lead.”

Piett was not lost in this shithole of a ship, not by a long shot. But he needed that bounty hunter scum ahead of him. 

They were just about to stop by the ramp. The trandoshan was babbling about how he wanted his money in platinum, none of those imperial credits. Piett wasn’t really listening merely made agreeing noises as he focused on getting the trandoshan where he wanted him. He turned to Piett, back towards the ramp; perfect. With no warning Piett punched him straight in the face. He staggered back at step, stunned and Piett followed up with a kick in the stomach. The ramp handled the rest and he tumbled backwards down it. 

Piett followed calmly. “Arrest him.” 

The troopers descended on him like a pack of trained bassa hounds. He struggled, and Piett watched in grim satisfaction as he got what was coming for him. A single squadron of troopers would have been sufficient.

“What is the meaning of this?! We had a deal!”

The commander went to stand by him as they watched the bounty hunter be searched and chained. He looked to Piett and nodded respectfully at him. Piett allowed himself a small satisfied smile. 

A trooper came over with a bag of what they’d confiscated from the bounty hunter, holding it out for Piett to peruse. He found the remote that had been used on Skywalker, studied it for a moment and pocketed it. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it for slave tech immediately. He refused the rest of the trandoshans trash and the trooper went to follow his squadron.

Piett turned to the commander, “send for a medpack, and I would like you to escort a child to medical.”

“Yessir,” the captain saluted. 

“Stay here until I return,” Piett said, once again entering the disgusting ship.

Oo o oO

He entered the cargo hold again, closing the doors behind himself. He didn’t need the child running out and hiding elsewhere. He saw a flash of blue, to the right this time.

First things first he moved over to Skywalker. He had better time now and he looked the battered young man over more purposefully, noting where medical attention were most immediately required. 

He was not much more than a boy really, Piett mused, and yet the death count attributed to his name was staggering. Piett had had friends on the Death Star, he remembered mourning with fellow officers back on the Devastator, talking about how at least the empire’s revenge would be swift and crushing. 

How Skywalker had managed to evade capture so long, not to mention the many miraculous near misses, despite Lord Vader’s best efforts were incomprehensible. Piett’s clenched his teeth in determination. It would not do to underestimate him because he was young and beat up, yet there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed. 

Skywalker looked up at him as he found the remote. He fidled around with it, hesitating still, this was a choice that could cost him his life. With a sigh he found the release button, pushed it and the collar clattered to the metal grate floor. 

Skywalker didn’t stop shaking immediately, but relaxed gradually, interspersed with a few jerks. Piett had the strange image in his head of a bird unfolding and stretching it’s wings, he felt like there was somehow more to his presence now. Piett stubbornly kept eye contact with the searching look levelled at him, even as he felt a deep unsettlement in his gut. 

“Are you going to escape now?” He demanded arms crossed when the silence stretched too far. It was a real concern, the stories of Skywalker’s abilities, were somewhat legendary and like all legends at least half was made up, but Piett didn’t know which half.

Skywalker, the fiend, chuckled. “You mean, can I open chains and locked doors with the wave of my hand?” He looked up through dirty bangs, with a small amused smile. Then his face grew serious. 

“Yes,” he answered his own question and Piett felt his stomach drop. Dead, he was dead.

A tremor rippled through Skywalker as he slowly sat up. It seemed to take an immense amount of strength. He groaned, “I’m afraid though, I’m not going anywhere right now. I don’t think I can walk, much less run. You got me Admiral… Thanks for the…” He waved at the collar. 

Piett bit back the automatic ‘your welcome’, and instead nodded curtly. Forcing himself to calm down. Skywalker could be lying, he could be pretending to be weak. Even if he didn’t look like he was pretending, looks could be deceiving. He was pretty sure no-one would have suspected that boy to be the empire’s most wanted if it wasn’t for the holo posters spread all over the galaxy by now. Focus, Piett, he told himself.

He turned to the right, caught sight off a shocked blue face disappearing behind a crate.

“It’s alright,” he called out softly. “I’ll make sure you get home.”

Nothing happened.

Skywalker looked up at him sharply. “Do you mean that?”

Piett stared back at him affronted. “Yes, on my honor.”

Skywalker said something then in a language Piett didn’t know. Like magic the child moved towards them.

“What did you tell her?”

“That you would get her home.”

“She doesn’t understand basic at all?” 

“Oh she does understand it, but she trusts me. Her name is Nia.”

“Of course,” Piett sighed. The girl stopped in front of Skywalker and hugged him tightly. Piett looked away uncomfortably, and was glad he couldn’t understand the soft words exchanged. 

Eventually the girl released him and stepped up to Piett, she reached up a hand and he took it, leading her out. 

Oo o oO

Outside the ship, the captain had a medpack ready for him and looked in interest as he left the ship with a child. The child fearfully plastered herself to his right leg, encumbering his walking. Piett realized it was because of the stormtrooper outfit. 

“Commander, I know this is outside regulation, but could you take off the helmet to show that you’re a person underneath?”

“Of course, sir.” He took off the helmet revealing dark skin a crew cut and a scar running from the corner of his left eye and all the way to a missing bit of his ear. Considering the somewhat gruesome scar his smile was surprisingly kind as he kneeled down. “Hello little-one, my name is Almec. I’m meant to take you to a doctor and then we’ll get you home. Do you still have family to go to?”

Nia nodded hesitantly, but she’d loosened her death grip on Piett’s pants so he considered that a win. 

“Nia,” Piett said calmly, “I’m gonna help your friend.” He indicated the medpack and felt a sliver of guilt at the half truth, “So I need you to go with Almec.”

Nia looked a bit doubtful as if she knew he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but she did move over to the commander. He lifted her onto his hip, saluted Piett and moved on. He heard him engage the child in the type inane conversation only those with childcare experience knew how to.

 

Oo o oO

 

Lord Vader wasn’t due back for several hours. This was too important to delegate, which was why Firmus Piett, Admiral of the Executor, was playing medic to Luke Skywalker. He reasoned that whatever Lord Vader wanted him for it wouldn’t happen if the boy died from infected wounds. All the while Skywalker looked at him with those piercing blue eyes that made him feel completely transparent; like he could see his soul or some other nonsense.

"You are very loyal," He commented with no warning. Piett lost his composure with a sputter and stared at Skywalker.

The boy closed his eyes, proceeding to confuse Piett further with his next words; "I'm glad he has someone like you."

Luke Skywalker was nothing but an enigma, and with that thought he continued to apply the bacta treated bandages tightly around his chest. If nothing else Skywalker was pleasant company. There was something about him that Piett couldn’t quite put his finger on, but sitting here it was hard to remember reasons to dislike this boy - like the friends he’d lost or the many crimes against the empire. It was insidious somehow, his good humor and the calm he seemed to have shrouded himself in. Easy to feel sad that he would probably be executed, easy to mourn the wasted talent. 

“Why did you join the rebellion?” 

Skywalker looked at him searchingly, before seeming to accept what he found.

“My uncle bought a couple of droids, one of them happened to hold the plans to the death star. None of us had any ties to the rebellion and yet my aunt and uncle where killed. I didn’t have anything left. I wanted revenge.”

“You mean you weren’t part of the rebellion before that?”

Skywalker chuckled, “I’d never flown a real starfighter before that battle over Yavin. I was a moisture farmer.”

Piett stared, and stared some more.

Skywalker snorted. “You’re looking like I’d never flown anything. I had a skyhopper, the controls were similar enough. It’s not that big a deal.”

Not that big of a deal. As he looked slackjawed at Skywalker he was pretty sure the kid didn’t even now the amount of training it took regular people, how many pilots made deadly mistakes thinking space and atmospheric flight was at all similar. He had not only survived a space battle with little to no training, he’d managed to fire an impossible shot. It was ridiculous.

It all came down to the Force didn’t it. From the highest place the entire empire had been indoctrinated into believing the Force no more than ancient, outdated, superstitous religion, like a collective memory loss. Ancient religion my ass, Piett thought acidly. He was old enough to remember the Clone Wars and the Jedi, he’d seen Vader use the force more times than he could count. And Skywalker had to be powerful, he didn’t remember quite that outrageous stunts from regular Jedi, just…those two…That’s why the name had always been so familiar! General Skywalker! Luke Skywalker had to be his son. The age fit and with Lord Vader’s hatred for all things Jedi it explained the insane and almost personal vendetta.

“No wonder Lord Vader wants to kill you himself.” Piett hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Skywalker flinched as if Piett had struck him. His left hand rubbed the black gloved right hand and warmth seemed to retreat from the air. For the first time Skywalker seemed fazed by this situation, his calm disturbed, all wry amusement gone.

“I…” Skywalker took a deep breath. “He doesn’t want to kill me, I don’t think so. I think he still wants me to join him.” He looked uncertain.

Piett realized his mouth had dropped open and closed it. “That..” Piett didn’t know what to say. In some ways it explained things, but it just seemed so outlandish that Lord Vader would extend that kind of offer to someone who’d humiliated him so and resulted in punishment from the emperor - Piett had noticed the state he sometimes returned in from his meetings with the emperor - the signs weren’t obvious, but Piett had always been a stickler for details, and when your continued existence relied on noticing the tiniest details in your superiors demeanor, the signs of electrocution were only too obvious. 

“Would you…” Skywalker spoke and Piett drew back from the dark thoughts. “Would you tell me what he’s like? To work with?”

Piett was baffled. “Are you considering switching sides?”

The silence and the stubbornly clenched jaw spoke its own language. Piett went back to his abandoned work, adjusting the slack that had resulted from his inattention. It wasn’t like the boy was asking for military secrets, though it was a distinctly strange question. What he hoped to gain from this Piett couldn’t imagine, though maybe that was the point? Nothing could be gained other than sating some curiosity - it was certainly a question he’d been asked by collegues in other assignments before.

Vader was quite an enigma after all, an almost legendary figure and to some of the troopers, particularly here on The Lady, he was revered like a god of death and vengance. Curiosity was normal.

Where to start though… “Most officers hate him, though the troopers love him.” It went unsaid that most officers where in their roles befcause of their family connections, and the death squadron had the lowest percentage of that type of officer in the entirety of the emperial navy mostly because; “Lord Vader most of all requires competence, he cares not for your family connections or lack thereof, if you’re skilled you will rise through the ranks, if not…” Piett remembered Ozzel standing only a foot away from him… “Well I’m sure you’ve heard of that.”

Blue eyes observed him intently. “You admire him.”

“I do.” Piett is not ashamed to admit so, though he knows Lord Vader has committed deplorable acts for the Emperor and for his own goals. Piett would pick Lord Vader over the Emperor any time. Piett himself didn’t have the stomach for a lot of the things Vader did, but he recognized that someone had to, to keep an empire spanning a galaxy together. “Lord Vader is a tactical genius, an army onto himself.”

“That’s not why you admire him though,” the boy stated.

Piett huffed through his nose, moving the bandage roll over the boys left shoulder a couple of times to better fasten the bandage.

“I’m from Axxila, I started my career in the security forces hunting pirates and slavers, who would then most likely be released again once credits hit the right pockets, depending on their connections to the crime cartels.” 

Skywalker grimaced, he was from the Outer Rim himself so he knew how it worked, the futility and the empty talk of politicians coreward. 

“And that would likely have been where I’d stayed, had it not been for Lord Vader. I would certainly never have risen to the rank of Admiral anywhere else in the Navy.”

“Lord Vader cares not for rank or connections, he will cut down opposition. Credits hold no sway over him. He will fight side by side with his men. He is a reasonable leader except…” Piett clamped his mouth shut, Skywalker was entirely too easy to talk to.

“Except when it comes to me,” Skywalker finished his aborted sentence with finality.

They were silent for a while. Piett moved on to cleaning out a nasty gash in his right shoulder. Skywalker didn’t so much as twitch at the disinfectant. Serene calm settled like a blanket around them, blocking out reality, like snow in the winter muffling the sounds of the world. It felt comfortable and safe. 

“Are you compelling me to speak with you?” Piett couldn’t quite make it come out as an accusation and it sounded more amused than anything.

Skywalker startled in surprise and that was really answer enough.

“No? I’m merely meditating. Are you.. force sensitive?”

“No…” His answer was a bit drawn out, he’d never been asked such a question before. He suposed he hadn’t been tested as a kid like it was mandatory in the core and mid rim during the Republic era. He’d certainly never had any training and never experienced any weird powers to make him believe so. 

Skywalker looked purposefully at Piett and the same sense of peace and tranquility descended over them. Piett must have given something away in his face, because Skywalker quirked his lips in a small crooked smile.

“Well you are something.”

Piett shook his head, focusing back on his task. 

Oo o oO

Skywalker gasped and for a moment Piett thought he’d pulled too tightly against the bruised ribs, but then he looked to Skywalker who looked unseeingly towards the door. He shivered, a fearful grimace momentarily broke through the serene facade. 

“He’s here.”

“Who?” Piett asked, there was that ‘he’ again. Who could he be talking about? Who could possibly be scary enough to throw Skywalkers composure? Oh, Lord Vader, of course.

“Lord Vader wont be here for several hours yet. I plan to have you moved before then.”

He shook his head.

“No he’s here now. I can feel him…”

The expression on his face was strange; a mixture of sadness, fear and… longing? Piett didn’t pretend to understand, he focused on laying the finishing touch on the bandaging. At the end he felt rather proud of himself, considering how many years it had been since he’d needed this particular skillset. Skywalker had just been staring at the door.

The door opened. Lord Vader strode in like a black storm cloud bringing in the freezing cold. The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Piet jumped to attention. 

“Mylord, I didn’t expect you back…” Piett trailed off, realizing he was being ignored.

Lord Vader only had eyes for Skywalker. Piett backed off a few steps feeling like an intruder. The dark lord towered over the kneeling rebel impossible to read. Eyes were locked. Tension built in the air until;

“Luke…”

Skywalker quirked a cocky smile belying his earlier fear, that surely must have hurt with the bruises on his face.

“Father.” 

Piett did a double take.

"You have accepted the truth then, son."

"I have accepted the fact that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father.” Skywalker said vehemently. 

Skywalker was Vader's son. Everything receded to the background as that reality settled in his mind. It certainly explained Lord Vader's single minded obsession with the boy. He suddenly saw Vader's anger after every close capture differently. Every time he executed someone who had near killed the boy with a terse "I want him alive." On one hand it made no sense, on the other it made too much sense.

He looked up suddenly to see the two of them looking at him, there was something eerily similar about their attention - hadn’t he also thought that earlier?

"Yes Sir?" He stood to attention.

"As I said, who knows Skywalker's on board?"

"Me sir, and the bounty hunter in the brig. I took the transmission personally and decided I couldn't delegate. The troopers weren't aware who the bounty hunter was carrying nor were they in here."

He realized suddenly why Vader was asking; to eliminate witnesses. He felt himself pale and his hands go cold and clammy. He had not expected this. Sure he hadn't really expected to be alive for long after Vader had promoted him, but still resolved to be the most competent Admiral yet. And he had been, he'd survived the longest, it was something he took great pride in. But now things had come to an end, not only did he know Skywalker was on board, but he knew the truth of their relationship. His life was forfeit.

He stood tall and proud. He would not show fear.

"It was an honor to serve under you My Lord."

And it had been. Serving under Lord Vader was the scariest and most exhilarating command he'd had.

He wondered how it would feel to have his windpipe crushed, fighting for breath that never came. He’d seen it countless times, how they turned blue in the face, every single time finding the high collar of his uniform too tight. Or maybe Lord Vader would be merciful and simply snap his neck, he’d seen that happen too, when the Lord was in a hurry.

Luke Skywalker stared at him incredulously, before looking back at Vader. Piett had the distinct feeling they were having a conversation he couldn't hear.

Vader looked at him. "At rest Admiral.”

“My Lord?” He asked weakly, feeling faint and confused, sure he should be dead now.

Vader pointed at him menace growing around him; “If you so much as breathe a word about this to a single soul you will regret ever being born.”

Skywalker, the menace, had the audacity to roll his eyes. Piett was half outraged, but the other half felt more settled and sure of it’s place again at Lord Vader’s threat. He stood back at attention. “Yes, sir.”

Skywalker’s mouth dropped open, about to say something that was definitely going to be embarrassing for Piett. But Vader rounded on the boy before he could utter a single sound.

“And you,” he pointed straight at the boy’s face, “if I didn’t know better, I would say you wanted to be here. Why have you not escaped?” It was said like an accusation and Piett it seemed was not the only one confused by the vehemence.

“I certainly didn’t mean to come here!” Luke protested. “Bossc was about to slaughter an entire family if I didn’t give myself up. I had planned to escape, but he was better prepared… I figured,” his breath hitched, “…I hoped that even if I didn’t manage to escape on the way, you wouldn’t kill me on sight.”

“Luke.” A thousand words went unsaid.

Skywalker stood up on legs trembling with the effort, his shackles fell to the floor with a clatter on the metal crate floor. He straightened his back, stared at Lord Vader straight on.

“Join me or be destroyed,” he spat, accusation in his voice. “Didn’t exactly leave much room for interpretation.”

Piett stared wide-eyed between them as Lord Vader made the closest thing to a flinch Piett had ever seen him do.

“Nothing has changed,”Skywalker continued, “I will not turn to the dark side.” 

The young man stubbornly held his ground. Really what kind of propaganda was the rebellion filling their people with? Piett would be the first to admit the empire wasn’t perfect and that there were certainly people out there abusing their power, but the ‘dark side’? That seemed unreasonably black and white for someone like Skywalker who’d been so genial towards him, an imperial admiral, only moments before.

“I know…” 

Piett did a doubletake, didn’t think he’d ever heard Lord Vader’s voice that low. Skywalker was also surprised and his righteous anger dissipated, and instead left him with an uncertain tremble in his voice; “But then, now what?”

“I must obey my Master…” 

Skywalker hung his head at Lord Vader’s words, his disappointment heavy and painful, Vader carefully placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and continued; “fortunately, he doesn’t know you’re here.”

There was lit a hope in the kid’s eyes. 

Treasonous talks and Lord Vader’s kid, Piett was gonna need a stiff drink after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed :)  
> If anything is strange or not clear, you can definitely tell me, it's not betaed so I might have stared myself blind on some parts.
> 
> Headcanon: The force permeates all people, but not everyone has a high enough midichlorian to become likely force users - and even above the cut-off point some people just don't have the mindsets to learn to use the force.  
> Piett is one of those people with like a slightly above average count nowhere near the cut-off point for where you would call someone force-sensitive, but the fact that his life depends on Vader's moods has allowed him to develop the highly specific skill of sensing force impressions from the moods of strong force sensitives.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett tries to come to terms with events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess this is a chaptered fic now thanks to all your wonderful comments and Slx99 for the support during the writing.  
> This part is shorter and likely prone to mistakes considering I've only worked on it for a couple of days but I hope you enjoy.

Piett set down his glass of finely aged Corellian Whisky after taking an altogether too large gulp, considering its good quality. The burn felt good, _real_ , in his throat. What a day... He stared unseeingly at the wall, half-aware of the strange looks he was receiving from the other occupants of the officers’ lounge. 

Piett moved his gaze to the warm gold liquid, tilting his glass this way and that to catch the light. He couldn’t really blame them. He hadn’t drunk any alcohol since his surprise promotion from Captain all the way up to Admiral. It had been too important to be at his very best at all times.

Today... Today Piett had learned a terrible secret and been an accessory in smuggling a rebel commander in a box unseen through the halls of his beloved ship.

Oo o oO 

Skywalker’s legs suddenly gave way under him - like the fight had been all that had been keeping him upright. He had obviously not been lying about not being able to run. 

Lord Vader caught him around the arms. His grip too tight and painful in his surprised worry. The boy groaned in pain and Vader quickly resettled his hold to hold him under his arms - like a strange parody of a parent holding their young child in front of them, the thought came unbidden and Piett looked away, horrified at the stray thought.

“What is the matter with you?!” Vader demanded his voice harsh. Skywalker flinched, obviously not registering the undertone of panic. He tried to get his legs back to supporting him but failed. 

Piett realized he had to intervene before Skywalker got his fight back and further exhausted himself.

“Excuse me, Mylord, if I may. I believe Commander Skywalker need to sit down.” Piett stepped forward briskly to assist, for just a split second he believed Lord Vader would pull Skywalker out of his reach, but then he allowed him to help the young man to sit down again. 

He heard the dark lord take an uncomfortable step back, even as Skywalker gave him a grateful but tired look.

The collar on the floor caught his eye, recognizing that Lord Vader needed something to be mad about. He grabbed it and held it out to Vader.

“Commander Skywalker was wearing this when I found him, it was how the bounty hunter kept him subdued.”

Unlike Piett, Vader realized the collar for what it was immediately. The air seemed to freeze. The walls cracked apart and the room shook. Piett forced himself to stand stock still, hand still holding out the torture instrument. He swallowed thickly. 

Vader reached out taking the collar in a his right hand - the black leather creaked ominously as he held on so tight the metal bent out of shape.

“The bounty hunter is in the brig,” Piett reminded trying to direct the anger with as steady a voice as he could manage in the face of Lord Vader’s wrath, “but what do you want to do about the commander? He needs proper medical attention, and I’m just assuming here that we’re not following standard procedure for rebel prisoners.”

Lord Vader regarded Piett silently, not giving anything away. Sweat gathered at his neck and hands. That might have been too frank.

Lord Vader released him from his gaze and looked around the room. Piett allowed himself the breath he’d been holding. He looked to Skywalker who was watching his father (his father!) with a worried frown.

“There are suitable rooms available connected to mine and I also have a fully equipped medical droid. We just need this.” Lord Vader summoned a decent sized supply crate with a wave of his hand, ripping off the lid and turning it upside down with another movement. Random paraphernalia fell onto the floor; moldy clothing articles, wires, some power packs, something that might have once been a meiloorun.

Skywalker started shaking his head in dawning horror; “no, no, no.”

Lord Vader was uncaring. He marched up to Skywalker with the crate floating behind him. Unceremoniously he picked the weakly struggling young man up as if he weighed nothing.

“Behave, young one. With your _occupation_ this is hardly the worst place you’ve hidden.”

Piett had to suppress a smile at the glare Skywalker sent Vader.

Oo o oO 

Piett smiled sardonically at the wall, for a few moments he’d thought Skywalker would never acquiesce to being put into the crate - it wasn’t exactly roomy for one, the hygienic aspect being a whole nother headache. He’d relented in the end, too exhausted to really struggle.

Oo o oO

They had left the bounty hunter ship with Skywalker hidden in the crate. Lord Vader lifted the ship up with a gesture seemingly as easy as lifting the crate. Then he flung it back into space.

“Order it destroyed and then find us a route Admiral.”

Piett went on his comm keying in the bridge; “Admiral Piett here, you should have the bounty hunter ship back on your scanners.”

“We have, but the ship has gone dark. What are your orders, sir.” Captain Venka responded in his ear. 

“Dust it.”

Oo o oO

Piett sighed, he’d never expected to use his data-pad, and it’s constantly live-updating information, to devise the route to Lord Vader’s quarters least likely to result in them meeting another soul. It had even worked! He’d never even considered the data could be used like that - the way the constant reports actually made a map of the ship’s activity and the key being to avoid them. It felt like a security breach, him being at the center of it. 

He took another too big swig of his drink.

Someone sat down beside him. He resolutely continued staring at the wall, he had a suspicion…

“Firmus.” 

Piett’s shoulders stiffened, of course it would be him. He was really not in the mood to talk about this. He hadn’t even really sorted through it himself; what he could and could not say.

“General Veers,” he greeted formally.

“Admiral Piett,” Veers returned in the most snooty Coruscanti accent Piett had ever heard him use. Piett tried really hard to keep a straight face, but cracked into a small smile. He shook his head.

“Max…” he sighed giving in, looking over at his friend, “I really don’t feel like talking right now.”

Maximilian Veers was the general of Death Squadron’s ground forces. The unlikely friendship between a naval Captain from a small outer-rim world and the army General from the core city world of Denon, had started with their shared dislike of their then-superior Admiral Ozzel. As it turned out Veers was a pragmatic, grounded man, with a fierce loyalty to Lord Vader and the empire. He was also a dedicated father.

Veers’ smile gave way to a frown and a tight jaw. “I heard about the kid.”

For one heart-stopping second Piett thought they’d been made, the secret somehow out already, then he remembered Nia. The sheer relief of that realization made him slump forward.

Veers put a comforting hand on Piett’s back. “That bad, huh.”

Piett panicked internally, searching desperately for what he could tell that would be believable, but came up short.

Oo o oO

They stopped in front of the double sliding doors leading to Lord Vader’s quarters. They’d acquired a hovercart for their rebel-smuggling-crate to make it looks less suspicious if they’d ran into anyone - not that it wasn’t hugely suspicious for the Admiral and the Supreme Commander of his Majesty’s combined forces to be carting around a random beat up crate, but it was slightly less suspicious than them walking around with a random beat up crate _levitated_ by said supreme commander’s mystical powers. 

Piett thanked the Force they hadn’t passed anyone.

“That will be all, Admiral,” Lord Vader dismissed him. Piett hesitated, half afraid the combination of the father and son alone would lead to something - probably vital - exploding.

“Admiral Piett,” Lord Vader demanded his full attention, “go rest, that’s an order.”

Piett realized for the first time that he might look as faint as he felt. He nodded and turned to go.

“Oh, and Admiral.”  

Piett turned back around. “Yes Sir?”

“I will personally punish the bounty hunter for not delivering on his promise.”

Oo o oO

At the time, Piett hadn’t really understood what Lord Vader meant but now he grasped the explanation like a drowning mand grasped a life line.

“The bounty hunter came to cash in on Skywalker,” Piett muttered.

Veers’ arm slipped away. “Oh no…”

“Oh yes,” Piett matched the numb tone of voice, sitting up and watching his friend take that information in.

“Did it at least look like him this time?”

“Blue eyes, hair too dirty to tell, the right age…”

Veers grimaced. “Fricking bounty hunters.” 

It was the perfect excuse. Luke Skywalker’s astronomical bounty had lead to quite a few people trying to cash in on it since its inception - the lucky ones had tried it far from Lord Vader, and only been subject to regular punishment for that type of fraud - the unlucky ones, well.. Lord Vader made sure they regretted their actions, _severely_.

“So what happened to the boy? I didn’t hear about this.”

“Lord Vader took care of him.”

Veers unceremonously took Piett’s glass and downed the remaining contents.

“Hey!” 

Veers pointed a finger at Piett. “No, Firmus.” 

The tone of voice was firm and calm, and one Piett was sure he used on his kids. Judging by the way he grimaced afterwards, he surely realized as much and changed tactics. He clasped Pietts right shoulder with a large heavy hand, leaning in close;  

“Look, Firmus, I realize that whatever you witnessed on that ship must have been distressing, but Lord Vader will be on the warpath after this. I will not allow you to drink.” _I will not allow you to get yourself killed,_ he didn’t say, but that was obviously what he meant. 

Piett swallowed thickly, feeling a bit misty eyed. Veers was a good friend. He coughed clearing his throat, pointing out; “I’m pretty sure, I’m the one in charge here.”

Veers leaned back and did a sloppy salute; “Indeed, Admiral, Sir.”

Piett rolled his eyes. He had changed his mind, Veers was a terrible friend. 

“That’s quite enough, Max. I will hit the bunk, hope you’re satisfied.” 

He punched his shoulder as he passed him as revenge for the lost whisky. Veers only laughed - definitely a terrible friend. 

He didn’t know how he was ever going to sleep, with the events circling his head like persistent stinger-bugs, but he needn’t have worried; he was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

 

…

 

It was 4 in the morning Coruscanti time - All emperial vessels employed Coruscanti standard time - The Lady was mostly calm, still placidly orbiting Flotilla waiting for her next deployment. Out in space and on a ship her size, concepts like day and night were relative, and there were actually 4 shifts among her crew with some overlap, though there were still more activity during the ‘day’. This was the late night shift - the least populated shift and certainly not the one the admiral of the vessel employed. 

There were still 2 hours to go before Piett usually got up… 

He sat up suddenly, eyes wide open. Urgency making his breath feel short and his hands shake. Nia, he’d forgotten Nia again; she knew Skywalker was Skywalker! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So cliffhanger, dun dun dun. (honestly I'd forgotten Nia)  
> I have the next parts planned but I dunno where this ride ends, hopefully it will be a fun one :)


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time; Piett realized Nia, the young twilek girl, knows of Luke's presence. Question remains what is he going to do about it?  
> In other news our dear admiral might be having a nervous breakdown.

Part 3

Piett paced like a caged rancor. How could he have forgotten about Nia! Piett had systems, memory tricks, to make sure he never forgot important data.

He sat down heavily, head in his hands. Who was he kidding? He knew why he’d forgotten. At the time where he’d put her out of his head, he hadn’t considered her important - certainly not something Lord Vader had needed to be bothered with. She was just a child, for Force’s sake! Secondly there was Skywalker - that whole revelation had reduced him to a mindless automaton, just going through the motions. 

Even now just the thought of Skywalker made him feel beside himself. Like his skin didn’t fit right. Like the world was suddenly upside down, but everyone else acted like nothing was different. They didn’t know. Nobody knew. Nobody, but Firmus Piett. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d survived. He lifted his head staring a his shaking hands.

It was too optimistic to hope Lord Vader would spare a child. Piett liked to think Vader was mostly fair, but he held no illusions. Lord Vader had done many more horrific things than killing a single child on the Emperors orders, and when it came to Skywalker he’d proven himself to be without care for anyone else (directing the fleet into an asteroid field came to mind). 

Piett sighed, clenched his jaw. His duty and allegiance was to Lord Vader, who’d also spared his life on now numerous occasions - and how it rankled that he’d messed up a report! By the book it was obvious what he should do, he should report his failure to his superior officer and submit to whatever punishment was deemed suitable… But he’d given his word that the girl would be safely returned to her family - and it was wrong and the fact that he couldn’t trust that Vader would spare the child would make him complicit in the child’s possible demise. There was no way he could claim ignorance. 

Not telling, however was personal betrayal to Lord Vader. Lord Vader hated traitors. He made a frustrated sound. His mind was running in circles. 

Oo o oO

Piett wasn’t at his optimal. He tried his best to focus on his datapad in front of him, but he kept reading the same sentence of the report over and over again, never seeming to actually retain the information.

The way the bridge crew kept shooting him concerned glances didn’t help matters.

It was a damn miracle Lord Vader had needed to go planetside to finalize the negotiations. Nothing was working as smoothly as usual, he would have been most displeased by the inefficiency. He hated himself right now. If it weren’t for the sheer luck of Vader’s absence he would have been putting his crew in danger.

He tried to focus again on the report. Squadron 46, yes it was a performance report. Squadron 46… Piett made a frustrated noise under his breath. He needed help on this, it wasn’t something he could handle on his own!

Captain Venka came up to him. Everything suddenly became too much, he could not handle another thing.

“What!” He snapped.

Venka looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. Piett could have strangled himself for that. He was not fit for duty. He should demote himself on the spot. While he berated himself mentally, Venka had gathered himself.

He subtly angled himself so that he was between Piett and the bridge crew as he laid a comforting hand on Piett’s arm to get his attention. 

“I’ve forwarded you the reports you requested for the meeting with Requisition, sir.”

A moment of panic set in. He didn’t remember he had a meeting! Then he realized he actually didn’t have a meeting, this was Venka giving him an out; relieving him of his duties in a way that didn’t make him loose face. A feeling of gratitude so intense he could have done a very uncharacteristic show of affection took over him. He controlled the urge to hug the other man, though.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said primly, trying to convey with his eyes the depth of gratitude.

Venka squeezed his arm gently in acknowledgment that the sentiment was received, before releasing him and doing a sharp salute. 

 

Oo o oO

 

Piett found himself standing in front of Lord Vader’s quarters before he’d even consciously realized why. It took a while of staring at the door before his brain clicked and it was so obvious he could have smacked himself for not realizing it sooner; Skywalker was his only hope for solving this, his only possible ally. It had been Skywalker’s influence that had spared Piett’s life yesterday. If anyone could pull off a miracle it was Luke Skywalker. Piett could use some of that infamous rebel luck right about now. 

Swallowing down the sour taste in his mouth of entering his superiors’ quarters uninvited, he swiped his code cylinder, and punched in his override code. As Admiral he was the only one aside from Vader himself who could unlock these doors. He clenched his jaw. It felt like abuse of his position. 

The doors opened revealing Lord Vader’s hyperbaric chamber central in the hexagonal room. The only light came from its white inside. Piett had never had reason to go further inside, but he knew from the ships’ blueprints that several more rooms connected to this one. Of course the purpose of the rooms weren’t marked on the blueprints for security reasons. There was a door on either side of the room equally spaced apart from each other and the entrance. 

Piett was saved from picking one when the door on the right slid open to reveal Skywalker. He was wearing standard-issue off-duty clothing consisting of loose pants and long sleeved shirt, both in a subdued grey. It should have made him look washed out and highlighted the pallor of his skin. Except somehow it just seemed to make his blue eyes stand out all the more. It gave him a sort of eerie and unnatural look, but as last time Piett had been in his presence, he couldn’t help but let the knots in his shoulders unwind. 

“Commander, you’re looking better,” Piett greeted, and he did, despite the paleness of his skin, he looked softer and the bacta had done wonders and left only light pink scaring. The fact that he was standing without looking about to keel over also helped.

“Thank you, Admiral,” Skywalker returned the greeting, tilting his head his eyes narrowed and Piett could practically see him cataloguing every wrinkle in his uniform, the bags under his eyes, and his harried “aura” or whatever it was force users used to read people’s emotions. 

“You’re looking worse, though,” Skywalker stated bluntly in a manner so reminiscent of Lord Vader Piett felt short of breath. 

“Are you okay?” The question was stated earnestly, open honest to Force caring in his voice. Piett felt a sense of whiplash, from Vader-like to this. Why would he care at all? Piett had no idea how to deal with this. He could understand kindness from his trusted friends, Veers and Venka, and a select few of his bridge crew, but even from them it was more subtle gestures - like the one that got him off the bridge, or Veers’ good-natured ribbing. Skywalker was a rebel and his relation to Vader, had certainly not changed his alignment. Even if he was allowed more freedom than standard rebel prisoners.

“Why do you care?” 

“I am a Jedi. Compassion is central.”

He really believed that. Piett involuntarily let loose a short laugh.

“I am old enough to remember the Jedi of the Republic, they never cared for anything but their mission.” He walked closer to Skywalker, feeling pity for the young man as he saw the small frown drawing together at his brow. His voice softened.

“They were removed from the populace, aloof, mired in politics, and like the Republic they only cared about the Core and Mid rim, leaving the Outer rim territories to be preyed upon by Hutts and other scum. The Jedi were symbols of Republic interference and they were in equal parts hated, feared and idolized.” 

Skywalker looked like Piett had punched him, the air itself seemed unsettled, before he took a deep breath and turned around walking further into the hallway he came from. It was like with every step he took he went through a stage of grief, shedding the feeling and moving on like cloaks of air left to disperse. He reached acceptance and stopped, letting out his breath. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, I’ve known the world’s not black and white for a long time, and nothing like Darth Vader cutting off your hand and telling you he’s your father to really nail in that lesson.” 

Piett winced at the underlying fragility hiding behind the light tone. Then Skywalker turned around, steely determination shining through the blue of his eyes. “Compassion is key to me being a Jedi. This is my heritage and my choice.”

Piett had no words. He was being dared to object, but he truly had nothing but admiration for the rebel right now. Instead of being disillusioned, he’d reclaimed the Jedi, shaped (or reshaped?) the concept into something right, something grounded into a simple but daring manifest - a rebel indeed. He was someone easy to follow, easy to be inspired by.

Skywalker’s features softened and he turned around.

“Now come, you did not come here to upset my worldview. And my father didn’t send you.” 

Piett repressed a shudder at the absolute certainty in Skywalker’s tone, and followed him down the hall. He turned left through a door that opened when he approached, Piett suspected the force. He’d seen that trick from Vader, innumerable times.

The room they entered was rectangular, void of any furniture and with mirrors covering the far wall.

Skywalker walked straight to the centre of the room and effortlessly dropped into a crosslegged position. He looked expectantly at Piett.

Piett narrowed his eyes. There wasn’t a single hint of guile in that honest, open expectant expression, but Piett couldn’t quite believe there wasn’t an element of revenge in this. For one his uniform wasn’t really meant for sitting in a crosslegged position; the Imperial Officer’s uniform was sown in a cut meant for show rather than practicality, and you didn’t really move all that well in it. Secondly while Piett was actually rather young to hold the position of Admiral, he wasn’t exactly a youngling and he’d begun to feel it in his back.

“I was meditating, before I felt your arrival, Admiral, we can go somewhere else if you prefer?” There was no hint of duplicity in his face. He still exuded that same calm warmth, Piett had felt before.

“It is fine,” Piett replied, he also really wanted to get it over with. He sat down with a sigh, arranging his limbs in a crosslegged position to the best of his ability. The uniform, tightened uncomfortably around his knees and hips, and he felt some worry for the seams, but they held. Kneeling would have been easier on the uniform, but hell on his knees. And if Skywalker really had revenge in mind, Piett was not gonna back down, he was gonna match his adversary step by step.

Putting those thoughts out of his head, he cut straight to the reason why he was there;   
“Nia knows your identity, doesn’t she?”

Luke’s eyes widened, instantly realizing the danger she was in.

“You’re going to tell my father.”

“I can’t not tell your father.” Piett countered.

Luke eyed him shrewdly, doing that thing again where he seemed to look through him.

“You’re putting too much faith in me being able to sway him.”He frowned. “Just because he does not want me dead or in the brig, does not mean he will listen to me.” There was bitterness and surety in his last words and Piett wondered what went down between the two of them after he left them last night. He pushed that aside for another time.

“It’s not just Lord Vader we need to worry about. Lord Vader would be a mercy, in comparison to what would happen to the girl and her family, should any of the Emperor’s spies catch wind of anything being off about this bounty hunter affair.” 

And the emperor would catch wind of this he was sure. There was no way the Emperor didn’t know who Lord Vader once was, and therefore his relation to Skywalker. Piett would not put it past the Emperor to have thoroughly researched all previous false claims of Skywalker’s capture to make sure this exact situation didn’t happen. In the Emperor’s eyes; Skywalker was a threat to Lord Vader’s loyalty. 

“What are the odds of that happening? I was under the impression it was pretty common for people to try and cash in on my bounty.”

Piett was struck by the strangeness of the sentence, the way it was said; like it was a normal thing to have a bounty on your head, astronomical enough that people would try their luck cashing it in with an imposter. Piett shook his head.

“I’m afraid it’s very likely. The Emperor is a careful man.”

Thoughtful silence descended on them.

“She can’t stay here?” Luke wondered.

Piett raised an eyebrow; “That would be highly suspicious. It would also be suspicious for Vader to dispose of Nia, now that I think of it, but I doubt Lord Vader would care for that argument.”

The silence descended on them again. It felt like invisible fingers tightening around his neck. This had been a bad idea. He should have just either come clean to Lord Vader or arranged a transport for the girl hoping for the best. He was sitting here conspiring with a rebel commander. What had he been thinking?

As if having read his mind. Skywalker looked up, catching his eyes in an intense stare.

“You need to let me contact the Alliance!”

“What?!” Piett frowned.

“What is going on here!” Vader’s voice boomed darkly, more an order than a question. Piett’s heart shot into his throat with fright. Like a dark vengeful specter he stood in the doorway. He would never get over how silent Lord Vader could move, when he wanted to.

Skywalker jumped to his feet with supernatural speed, landing between Vader and Piett with his hands raised and open in a calming gesture. Piett hurried to his feet at a normal human speed, standing at attention.

“Father…”

Vader glared at Skywalker. Cold darkness spread from Vader seeming to engulf the entire room. Piett noted the way Skywalker’s hands shook in fear, before he clenched them into fists, lowering them to his sides, stubbornly standing between him and Lord Vader. 

Piett sighed, this was ridiculous; Skywalker had to be some kind of anomaly. Piett was not gonna hide behind a kid half his age. He sidestepped Skywalker and saluted Vader.

“Milord.”

Vader focused all of that barely repressed anger on him and he called upon all his training to stand tall. He had been living on borrowed time anyway, he told himself. 

“Report, Admiral.”

“Milord, I failed to report on a passenger that knows the identity of Commander Skywalker. Twilek girl, approximately seven standard. I had dismissed her before I was aware of the imperative for secrecy. I submit to whatever punishment you deem fitting.” He bowed his head, relief at coming clean and following regulations battling worry and guilt for dooming the girl.

“I will deal with you later.”

He spun on his heel and made to walk away. He’d only walked a step, when Skywalker yelled “stop” a hand thrown out in front of himself.

Vader stopped mid step, as if an invisible force was holding him in place. He slowly turned back around, moving in strange aborted motions. 

“Impressive,” he rumbled, a note of dark pride in his voice, “but you cannot hold me for long, already you’re loosing your grip.”

Sweat ran down Skywalker’s face from strain. His entire body seemed to wobble dangerously, veering toward another collapse. Vader didn’t realize what he was doing in his anger, just focused on winning this battle of wills.

“Father please,” he begged, head bowed, “She’s just a little girl… you don’t have to…” He sounded out of breath. “There’s another way…”

Blood drained from his face. He seemed to be less solid. Vader was like a monster of darkness that just ate up the words one by one, and never cared for their meanings. It was like he was sucking the very life out of Skywalker.

“just… LISTEN!” Skywalker screamed. There was power behind the demand, and Piett’s head swiveled to him just as he collapsed to his knees.

He said something, but Piett couldn’t make out the words despite listening very closely, as he’d been compelled to. 

Lord Vader heard something intriguing enough to be stepping closer. He bent down and tilted the boy’s head up to look at him. The black leather was a stark contrast against the white bloodless pallor of Skywalker’s skin.

“Repeat that.”

“I said,” Luke panted, tears glittering in the corners of his eyes; “if you spare Nia, I promise to stay here and not attempt any escape.”

There was a moments pause.

“Done.” Vader’s voice rang in finality. He let go of Luke and left them so fast his cape snapped in the air.

Skywalker slumped further down, the image of defeat, though his clenched hands belied his docility. 

Piett sighed. He hadn’t signed up for family drama, when he joined the navy, quite the opposite in fact, but as it turned out, he’d been stuck in a family drama for years. It was simply only now he’d realized it. At least Nia was safe for now, though the parallel of the bounty hunter using Nia for Skywalker’s good behavior, and the current situation, wasn’t lost on Piett. 

“Come along then Commander, you look like you need to lie down.” He held out a hand.

Skywalker gave him an unimpressed stare before grabbing his hand, allowing Piett to pull him to his feet. “So much for looking better, eh?” 

Piett ducked under Skywalker’s right arm to steady him, and wrapped his left arm around his waist. “Well, you look better than other people I’ve seen defy Lord Vader.”

That got him a curious look.

“You’re not dead after all.”

Skywalker shook his head ruefully as they started walking.

“I just, don’t understand him. One moment I think a part of him actually cares, the next…” He waved his hand indicating the situation.

“He did just walk in on us talking behind his back. Frankly I’m surprised I’m still alive.” And he was almost giddy about that actually, if he was honest with himself.

Skywalker stopped and stared incredulously at him. “You’re something else, you know that, Admiral? How can you be so calm about that?”

Piett mulled over the question. He truly was more calm and feeling more himself now. He had done his duty and Nia was safe thanks to Skywalker, which hadn’t quite brought her home to her family as he’d initially promised, but considering the situation it was really the best, he could have hoped for. 

“You told me compassion is central to your life?”

Skywalker nodded. Piett continued;

“Duty is central to mine. I knew from the moment I was promoted to Admiral that I was living on borrowed time.” 

“Don’t you see how wrong that is?”

“I beg your pardon?” Piett returned sharply, thinking Luke was referring to duty being a central part of his life.

“You shouldn’t have to fear sudden death from your superior officer! It is one thing to accept that death is a risk fighting in battles, I do, you can’t be a snub fighter pilot not accepting the risk of not returning. But summary execution for a small mistake! How can you even work like that?” He panted at the end of the rant.

Piett blinked, taken aback by the righteous vehemence and passion. “I suppose it does seem rather harsh.”

“Harsh?!” There was the incredulous tone again. They started walking again, turned left down the hallway.

“Well, yes, but you have to understand the position also comes with a lot of prestige and privilege. I have a duty to do the job I’ve pledged myself to, I have a responsibility to my crew, to make sure as many as possible survive, and I’m usually very good at it.”

“In here,” Skywalker interrupted, and the door on their right opened with wave of his hand. Skywalker looked a bit green.

“We could have just used the control panel,” Piett commented lightly pulling him into the room. 

It had a large viewport for it’s rather diminutive size on the far wall and only contained a built-in bunk on the left side and a desk with a standard chair on the right, both surrounded by some empty shelves and the standard storage compartments - it was basically like the first room an officer would get once they stopped having to share. Except the large viewport, having a viewport at all was unusual. The bunk of course wasn’t tidy, the multitude of blankets was lying in a tangled mess at the foot end, rebels.

“Is it worth it?”

Piett blinked, having lost trail of their conversation; “Pardon?”

Skywalker walked over to the bed and sat down, facing Piett, blue eyes wide and earnest. 

“Do you find it worth it? To be working under conditions where your superior officer can dispose of you at will?”

When he put it in terms like that, it did seem unfair, maybe even wrong, but Piett had long since accepted those terms. He could have requested a transfer. He could have resigned, but he truly believed he did his best work right here. He only wished this war with the rebels would end, so that they could focus on the true criminals; the pirates and the cartels, the Hutts. There were too many young sentients entrenched in this fight, led by the grudges of old men on both sides. 

“I do find it worth it,” he finally replied, then mused; “I do actually think I work best under a bit of pressure.”

Luke’s composure was lost in a startled laugh. He let himself fall down onto the bed. He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, smiled crookedly;

“I’d never have picked you for an adrenaline jockey, Admiral.”

“You’d be surprised,” Piett shook his head fondly and sat down in the desk chair, “I hunted pirates in my younger days, it was quite exciting.”

Skywalker chuckled, “I bet!”

Silence descended. Piett should maybe leave, but he didn’t feel like he’d been properly dismissed by Lord Vader. They still hadn’t settled on a plan of action.

“I wonder what Lord Vader is doing…”

Skywalker closed his eyes for a moment.

“He’s in the training room, slicing training droids apart. He’s very angry.” Luke’s face looked drawn and tired.

“You sound very certain?” 

He chuckled humorlessly, and raised an eyebrow; “I can feel my father’s moods from across the galaxy if I focus, this close it’s like shooting Womp rats.”

Piett blinked, he didn’t know exactly what Womp rats were, but inferred from context they were quite easy to shoot. Piett considered how unnerving it was to be near Lord Vader and shuddered at the thought of having him in his head like that all the time. That was a horrifying thought, but then he realized;

“This is how you knew he was coming, back on the ship.”

Luke glanced momentarily at him before explaining.

“Yes. The shock collar stopped me from connecting consciously to the force, but putting me in so much pain so close to my father was not Bossc’s wisest decision.”

Piett was suddenly intensely glad he’d made the choice to remove that collar. If Lord Vader had found him with that thing still on, Piett would have been the only possible outlet for Lord Vader’s anger…

They fell into silence. 

Piett almost thought Skywalker had fallen asleep since he’d closed his eyes, but he suddenly sat up, nervous worry flattening his lips.

“Full disclosure, we’re about to have company.”

Piett had barely gotten to his feet before the door slid open, revealing Lord Vader in the doorway. He stood at attention, but as was usual Vader only had eyes for Skywalker.

“What do you intend to do with the girl,” Vader demanded.

“This is why I need to contact the Alliance, they can protect her and her family,” Luke implored.

There was a moment of consideration. The tension rising, Vader obviously weighing the pros and cons. On one hand it had gotten him a promise from Skywalker not try escaping, but on the other he was obviously hesitant to let him make contact with the rebels. 

“Very well, the Admiral will assist you. You have my permission but I do not approve and you are on your own.”

Luke nodded tightly.

Satisfied Vader turned to Piett.

“Admiral, a word.”

Then he turned around and walked away. Piett hurried after him. They left the quarters and Piett recognized the way to Lord Vader’s office.

They entered the office and Lord Vader went to stand in front of the viewport rather than behind his desk. Piett glanced at the desk and had to fight not to laugh. He had completely forgotten Lord Vader had a holo of Skywalker on the desk, a rather candid picture that had the rebel smiling. With sheer willpower he kept his face straight and his mind carefully bland. 

All the officers had been convinced Lord Vader must really personally hate Skywalker to have his face on his desk, a constant reminder of the rebel that keeps getting away. Now it’s pretty obvious that the purpose of the Holo was much simpler. 

He stopped behind Lord Vader and waited.

“I do not appreciate you going behind my back, Admiral,” Vader said finally, still with his back turned looking out the viewport. 

“Apologies, Milord, I submit to any punishment you deem appropriate.”

There was something like a sigh from Vader, or maybe it was just the suit.

“Piett…” Vader trailed off, “This is not about regulations. I trust very few people, you are currently one of them, don’t disappoint me again.”

Piett felt his throat clench, his misgivings about the entire affair coming back full force. He bowed his head, electing to be honest because Vader deserved an explanation.

“I panicked Milord, I couldn’t see a way out that didn’t involve you eliminating the girl.” 

The silence was loaded.

“And you would have been correct. So you went to Luke…”

Lord Vader was impossible to read this moment. Piett got absolutely nothing, had no way of knowing how he felt about it. Usually when Lord Vader was mad there was no doubt about it. Which meant that Lord Vader couldn’t be mad, but what then?

“Dismissed, Admiral.”

“Very well, Milord,” Piett resigned himself to not finding out what his inscrutable superior thought of his actions. He walked out. He supposed his actions had gotten Lord Vader something he wanted in the end, Skywalker’s promise not to try any escapes, maybe that was reason enough not to be furious with Piett. 

Lord Vader had volunteered Piett to help Skywalker contact the rebels, maybe that in itself could be considered punishment. Piett’s ordeals were far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey at least it's not a cliffhanger this time, right? 
> 
> More like a soft to be continued XD
> 
> I dunno when it will be continued though, so don't hold your breath. My current priority is the Amnesia fic I posted the first chapter of yesterday. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Firmus Piett Is Altogether Too Likable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065363) by [Mokulule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokulule/pseuds/Mokulule)




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